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07 Aug 05
“And she curses herself for the life she's led“
“Ah, Tom's old ma is a dying lass
Soon they all reckon she'll be pushing up the grass
And her bones might ache and her skin might sag
But still she's got the strength to have a harry rag*“

“Harry Rag“ – The Kinks

I visited my grandmother today again. She had watched a lot of athletics on TV. She remembered some names, but she didn't remember it was in Helsinki. We discussed pole vaulting. She started to cry when she said that this russian pole vaulter had broken the world record. I don't know what it was that induced the tears, but here we were again. These moments of acute sadness are very short, about ten or twenty seconds. But they may be numerous, up to three or four per visit.

I think it would be wrong to say that I understand her, but then again, can we ever understand? If w can, I think I do. I understand her situation for the past forty something years. I won't tell you her story at this point and I'm not sure it's that unusual either.

And don't take away her cigarrettes, ever.
* Harry Rag is slang for a cigarrette
written by Mattias
The sum of 8 and 8